Baby, You're My Medication
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: Everything was going to be perfect and beautiful. Abby/Henry , Henry's POV.


_You need help._

It's really almost enough to make me laugh out loud when those words come out of her mouth, both so sure and yet so, so frightened, as though saying those words will make me snap and hurt her. But I could never hurt her, not ever and she should have come to realize that by now. Every time I went somewhere with her it was to protect her; to ensure that no matter what I was able to keep my father from losing his patience and destroying her. I wanted her by my side through all of this; I wanted to keep her safe and comfort her when she needed it. And when she clung to me as Charlie hung from the edge of that rope, clung to me in her hatred and her sorrow when I refused to allow her to just run off and kill my father I had wanted to stop this ruse and just take her away to the little house I had picked out for us right then and there but I had to be patient. I had to finish it all.

It was harder to kill Trish than the others because despite myself I had come to care for her. I had tried not to over the years; I knew somewhere deep down in my heart it was Abby. It was always Abby. Even when we were little kids it was always her. She was the person who haunted my dreams; she was the person who lived in my heart and calmed the anger; she put out the fire that would rise up inside of me, hidden deep within my eyes. Her touch and her voice and her smile and laugh would throw ice water onto it and make it all seem alright. It was always Abby. Only Abby. Forever Abby.

I don't pretend that I didn't care about Trish. I even loved her perhaps in some way. Perhaps I loved her nearly as much as I loved Abby but never as much; it never reached that point no matter how well Trish treated me. And she treated me well. I had wanted to give her that wedding she always wanted; I had wanted her life to end on a happy note but in the end I couldn't do that.

I want to let Abby know that it wasn't easy, all the sacrifices I had to make for us, for this. There were people I couldn't have cared less about seeing dead- I couldn't tell her that her father was one of them but that was the sad truth. His death hadn't bothered me in the slightest. He had sent her away from our home; he had sent her away so the scent of her skin and the touch of her time was a fading memory. I couldn't tell her that Sully was part of that group either; couldn't possibly tell her that a man who I had called my best friend for nearly as long as I called her my best friend was someone I actually enjoyed killing; couldn't explain why even though I didn't love Trish like I loved her that she was mine and he had betrayed me- like he did so very often- when he tried to sleep with her. Abby could never understand that. It would never make sense to her.

But I hated to kill J.D.; I hated to kill my father. I hated to have to kill Danny because to be honest out of all of my friends he was the nicest of them all; he was the only one I knew I could trust completely and if I could have let some of the people I could actually honestly say I liked live I would have.

I want to tell her that every single drop of blood was for her; that they painted her name on my heart even brighter than it had been painted there before; that it was her face that was in my head each time the blade cut through skin, each time blood coated my fingertips and each time I saw the light leave someone's eyes. Her smile and her laugh and her beautiful face swam inside of my brain and calmed the storm; it drove me forward. It let me know that everything was alright. Everything was fine.

Everything was going to be perfect and beautiful.

_You need help._

I smile at her, humor her as she tries to act so tough with that piece of broken glass in her hand- glass she doesn't need because I'd sooner cut out my beating heart than hurt her- and I back down the stairs, watching her hand shake, watching her tears and wanting to reach out and wipe them away for her even if it means risking a slash from that glass; even if it means that for a moment she looks more frightened. The fear in her eyes would be worth the touch of her skin against my fingertips; the little bit of blood that I would lose if she were to actually cut me would be worth the loss just to feel the warmth of her tears beneath my fingertips to remind me that I'm no longer dreaming. Things are real; she and I are really here and nothing and no one can stand in our way now, not even that stupid fisherman who just won't seem to die that I had to lock up and hide away until I could convince him to confess to doing all the things I had done.

_You need help._

No, I can't help but think. I don't need any help.

You're all the help I need, Abby. You always were.

You always will be.


End file.
